The Horror
by Blood Diamond13
Summary: The sequel to "Morticia, the Writer" that we never got to see. Based off of the 60s show; Morticia finds out the real reason Gomez destoryed her... masterpeices.


It had been two weeks since Morticia's... books, came out to the public. And they were selling like hotcakes. Thankfully, Gomez had given a fake pen name to the publication company after schools began to read the books, and now, as far as anyone was concerned, "The reason for the previous penname was becuase Morticia Addams was am estranged cousin of the real writer, and her name was being used until the real writer thought of a penname." That penname was Julie Deathheart. Gomez felt absolutely awful about what he did. And his wife thought it was, in her words, "a way to prove that the only thing that publication companies will print these days, is junk." And Gomez had taken her right upstairs after that, desperate for her attention which he had craved for... an extremely long and difficult period of time.

But, he _did_ feel guilty about not being honest with his wife. But he was worried that would break their trust. But if she ever found out that he had not been completely honest, **_it_** may also break there trust. So essentially, either way... he was screwed.

Morticia was in the library, going through old family photo albums when she found it. It was her original copy of one of her books. She did so wish that it had made it to print. She sighed and began to read. And what she found, she was not at all pleased with. Her words, crossed out and in her Uncle Fester's handwriting, the words on the new copies. Daisies, evil witches, wolves, slaying giants and... the word, slunk. She needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. So, she figured it the perfect time to when her uncle walked in.

"Uncle Fester?"

"Yea, Morticia?" Uncle Fester answered her.

"Could you explain something for me?"

"Sure." Uncle Fester said. He never even took a hint, if he did, he'd remember that Morticia rarely needed help in literature.

"Explain why the original copy of my book has your handwriting all over it." Morticia insisted.

"Oh, that..." Uncle Fester tried to think of an explaination. "Well, ya see..." Oh, what was the use, lying to her? She'd always find out the truth, she was Morticia. "Gomez did it, well, he told me to anyway. Ok, I convinced him. See, I told him about how you might become famous and go away, and I asked him, _Why don't you just change the words, that way, it won't get accepted to print._ But we accidentally started a business of our own-" He was getting carried away.

"Thank you, Uncle Fester." Morticia said, calmly although she was anything but calm. "I think I've heard enough." She then went upstairs to her and Gomez's room, to find her husband there. He was smoking a cigar, nonchalantly. As if, he **_hadn't_** told a huge lie.

"Gomez, darling?"

Gomez looked at his beautiful wife, completely intoxicated. "Yes, Cara mia?" He asked, chucking his cigar and kissing her neck.

"Mon cher..." Morticia knew exactly how she wanted this to play out. She smiled.

"Tish, you know what that French does to me." Gomez moaned and began kissing her up her arm.

"Yes..." Morticia was angry and Gomez just kept kissing her, as if he didn't know. But his blood was boiling so hot, he probably wouldn't have noticed a volcano. "Darling, I found the original copy of my book."

Gomez stopped and his eyes grew wide. "You did?" He asked.

"Yes, I did. Is something wrong?" She asked.

"No. I wish that book would have made it to print..."

Morticia chuckled, lightly. "Really? Because I found out another reason why you tampered with my writing."

Oh, God. Now, Gomez was afriad.

"Querida, what reason would that be?" He laughed, nervously.

"Uncle Fester told me that when he mentioned the prospect of my being famous to you, this whole mad charade started." Morticia had an edge to her voice now.

"Cara, he wrote it!" Gomez said, pleading, for what he didn't know.

"He may have, Gomez. But you were the one who told him what to write. Does the prospect of my doing something great upset you that much?" She asked, now a bit heartbroken.

"Morticia, of course not!" Gomez gripped her shoulders, miserable that he made his wife feel so awful. She cried, and he did all he could do not to kiss her again becuase he hated to see her hurting, but adored the way her lower lip puckered when she cried.

"Well, then why did you do it?" Morticia asked. She then stopped crying, and once again became angry. "I know why, you're jealous!"

"Jealous, me? That's laughable." Gomez had tried that trick before... it never worked.

"I was spending a bit more time with my books, and so you did something about it. Darling, how could you?"

"Tish, I promise! There's more to it!" Gomez tried to reason with her.

"I need some time alone to think." Morticia said, extrmely hurt.

"Carita-"

 _"Gomez. Now."_ Morticia pointed out the door.

Gomez sighed. "Very well." He then walked out.

Morticia stayed in their room all day, reading the story. She was horrified. She didn't even come down for dinner. Gomez then walked upstairs that night and was absolutely a wreck. He wasn't crying, but inside he was. He felt so awful. He had no idea how he was ever going to make this up to her. He knocked on the door. "Carita!" He whisper-yelled. "Cara mia, please let me in! I hate to see you this miserable." He waited, then tried again. "Tish, please. I can't stand this. I will do anything to make it up to you." He waited once more. "Morticia-" The door then opened and he walked in and shut it behind him. He then walked over to the bed where his wife was sitting and sat right beside her. "My dear, please let me explain." He pleaded.

"Very well, darling." Morticia stated. "I've said my peice, it's only fair that you get to say your's."

"Thank you." Gomez held her hands, tightly. "Querida, I never meant to cause you any pain. Uncle Fester told me that if you became famous, you might go away and not come back. I was so worried about the prospect of losing you that I changed your story. I couldn't let that happen. I was jealous, I admit it. But what drove me to do what I did was the fear of being without you. Morticia, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I couldn't face the day without you. The house would feel empty, but not as empty as me."

"Oh, darling." Morticia cried. "I had no idea. You don't know what this means to me. But, mon cher-" she gave Gomez a look that screamed, _later!_ and he got the message. "Darling, no matter how famous I got, I would have always made time for you and the children. More time than I would have made for fame. And I certaintly wouldn't have traveled without all of you. I did get carried away with the books, and I appologize for that. And, I forgive you. Next time, Gomez... talk to me."

"I will." Gomez promised. "Tish, please don't be angry. But... do you remember when you tried to have a carrer in sculpting?"

"Yes." Morticia said.

"I... payed that man a lot of money to buy your sculptures." Gomez figured he was on a roll, so why not blurt out the truth?

"Gomez, let me see if I understand this. You payed him money, and then gave him even more money to buy my sculptures. Is that correct?" She asked.

"Yes. I just didn't want you to get hurt if nobody bought them."

"Darling, now _that_ was sweet." Gomez kissed her hand. "I couldn't be angry at something like that."

"Morticia, I've noticed that lately, you've been trying to devote your time and energy to different hobbies. Is something bothering you?" He asked.

"Well, Gomez, it's just that I feel I should... contribute something to the world. I feel like I am one of the world's most fortunate women. Having a husband like you, children like Pugsley and Wednesday, being able to live with Máma and Uncle Fester. And Lurch is such a wonderful butler, Thing is just the sweetest, thing. And I just was looking for an opportunity to share some darkness on a world so full of ghastly light."

"Tish, that waa beautiful." Gomez admitted. "But darling, you do so much. You gave one of your favorite cracked mirrors to charity last year, the children always want you to read them Edgar Allan Poe when their sick, I could go on forever, and not just about what you do hear. Your more involved in what the children do at school than my **_own_** mother was. And if you don't agree with something they do, you immidiatley try to change it. Morticia, you don't have to devote all of your time and energy to one hobby to contribute something to the world, you do that just by **_being_** here."

Morticia was about to cry. "Merci mon cher. Tu as raison." She then gave him her arm and he kissed her passionatley. And when he did reach her neck, she gave him her lips. After a very, long time, they let go. And Gomez looked into Morticia's beautiful, blue eyes.

"Querida, I meant what I said." Gomez began. "I know you forgive me, but I will do anything to make it up to you."

"Darling, really-"

"Morticia, please?"

"Alright, darling. Could you give me the time?"

"One o' five on this watch, and two ten on this one." He thought for a moment. "That makes it exactly twelve o' clock."

"And Máma and Uncle Fester are on their snail hunt. They won't be back until around four." Morticia said. Gomez put his hands around her hips. "And Lurch and Thing at the movies because it's Lurch's day off. And they, won't be back until three."

"So we have the whole house to ouselves for three hours." Gomez hinted.

"It appears we do..." Morticia smiled. "Bubulah."

"Oh, Tish." Gomez then picked her up bridal style and lied her on their bed. And the candles mysteriously, blew out.


End file.
